Ghlahn made his way upwards, the climb was not difficult but after 4 stories he came to an impase.  The chain link fence nearly met the floor of the next level and there was no way to wiggle through. It looked like some cuttign was in order as he needed access to the net level for a good lookout position.  With no other option other than retreat, he began to cut the wire just enough to make a hole to squeeze his way through.

Unfamiliar with his surroundings, and more than a little harried, the fixer immediately makes his way over to the fueling station’s building. He still has a little while before his contact, Fluke, is supposed to arrive with the air jeep, so the well-dressed man ducks inside the establishment and scans the layout, searching for a place to do some work.

As with most waystations along the massive string of freeways stretching across California, the Long Mile caters to those who are on a journey, like freight truckers who still deign to brave the wilds, nomads, and corporate families making road trips. There are three fast food restaurants inside, but only one is still open… McDee’s. In the back, there will be coffins, even a few showers and some laundry services, but the best place to sit will be in the restaurant.

(OOC: Is Luther going to sit outside on one of the benches under the building’s awning, or stay in the building, grab some grub, and wait with a view of the parking lot?)

Luther goes in and grabs a table so that he can use the drone and still watch the outside as he orders a cup of coffee. 

Near the Parking Garage two blocks from the Upstairs Downstairs Inc. Building | Night City Integrate | Midcity | UrbanZone - March 9th, Day 3 (Sunday), 02:32 AM PST

Weather Conditions: High City (Thunderstorms, 15mph winds from the NE.) | Midcity (Rain, 10mph winds from the NE.) | Undercity (Fog and Rain, no winds.)

Air Quality Index: High City = 25 | Midcity = 42 | Undercity = 75 (masks required)

Ghlahn makes his way upwards, the climb is not difficult but after four stories he comes to an impasse. The chain link fence nearly meets the floor of the next level and there is no way to wiggle through. It looks to him like some cutting is in order as he needs access to that level for a good lookout position. With no other option other than retreat, he grips the fencing tightly with one hand and mentally activates the body shell’s wire cutter installment. Cutting the wire just enough to make a hole to squeeze his way through, the sniper eventually recalls the shears into his arm and pushes his bag through before pulling himself into the garage and dropping to the cement floor between two ground cars spaced approximately two meters apart.

Pausing, crouched, the red-headed Cee-metal edger scans his surroundings, looking for any sign that he’s been compromised. Oil and exhaust odors predominantly fill his nose, though the mask he’s wearing succeeds in filtering most of it. The ground cars are both sedans, four-door; one being black and the other being dark blue. Further assessment of this garage level eases the sniper’s mind. No one appears to be aware of his presence and as no being is about, he is relatively free to move to a position closer to the front of the garage that he has already targeted as his perch.

Snatching his bag from the ground and slinging it over his shoulder, Ghlahn crouches low and moves to the back of the blue sedan, cybernetically enhanced vision aiding him as he cautiously surveys his surroundings before moving low to the next vehicle, and then the next parked car, and another, until he finds himself at the rear bumper of a 2034 American Motors Nighthawk Coupe in the corner stall.

It is here that his experience tells him will be the best position for overwatch. Now, he just needs to decide how he’s going to situate himself to remain lost in the shadows once the unruly crowd below meets the corporate security that is undoubtedly on its way.

(OOC: March 9th, Day 3 - Sunday, Time is 02:40 AM PST)

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the Long Mile Fueling Station | SanFran Integrate | Midcity | UrbanZone - March 9th, Day 3 (Sunday), 1:40 AM PST --- Weather Conditions: High City (heavy rain, 20mph winds from the N.) | Midcity (light rain, 10mph winds from the N.) | Undercity (fog and drizzle, no winds.)

Air Quality Index: High City = 15 | Midcity = 36 | Undercity = 86 (masks required - Red warning)

Unfamiliar with his surroundings, and more than a little harried, the fixer immediately makes his way over to the fueling station’s building. He still has a little while before his contact, Fluke, is supposed to arrive with the air jeep, so the well-dressed man ducks inside the establishment and scans the layout, searching for a place to do some work.

As with most waystations along the massive string of freeways stretching across California, the Long Mile caters to those who are on a journey, like freight truckers who still deign to brave the wilds, nomads, and corporate families making road trips. There are three fast food restaurants inside, but only one is still open… McDee’s. In the back, there will be coffins, even a few showers and some laundry services, but the best place to sit will be in the restaurant.

Looking to the attendant—an overweight white fellow with a huge handlebar mustache and beady eyes that stare flatly and suspiciously his way—Cred Stick Charlie makes his decision. Turning abruptly on his heel, he steps back into the wet exterior, moves to the sill of one of the broad storefront windows, and props his drone case on the brick edge. Balancing the expensive machine’s housing on his knee, the Native American edger withdraws his drone and sets it aside to close the case again.

Setting the case’s rubber feet on the ground, he preps the small technological wonder for flight and then calls up the HUD on his optic splice making certain of its connection. Satisfied, Luther retrieves his case and makes his way back into the establishment while mentally directing the drone to take to the sky. Sliding into a table so that he can use the drone and still watch the outside, he responds to the cheerful holographic table attendant by ordering a cup of coffee.

Looking through the drone’s camera is done as a semi-transparent overlay within his optic splice. It took practice at first to readily determine what was in front of him versus what he was viewing, but now… well, now, Luther is experienced enough that it doesn’t take any time whatsoever to fall back into the game.

Flying the drone about the parking lot, Cred Stick Charlie is barely distracted at all by the arrival of the delivery bot—a small red and yellow robot whose height is just tall enough to slide a tray onto a table, it also has two small three clawed arms by which it carries drinks—that places the steaming biofoam cup to the right of the fixer’s elbow.

Luther is nearly finished with the bitter McDee’s brew when he picks up two motorcycles pulling into the parking lot from the exchange that stand out from the usual traffic he’s been monitoring from on high. These bikers roll about the lot for a bit adding to the suspicious nature of their arrival and then they pull up to the building, dismount, and mosey inside.

Both men are wearing balaclavas that cover their face, riding goggles, and have long hair pulled back in a low ponytail. Their clothing is a mix between leather and rugged outdoorsman styles with flannel, boots, and leather jackets mixing in metal accouterments and accents. They pause at the entrance, survey the rooms, and then walk into McDee’s dining area and plop down in a booth across the way and further down a bit from Luther.

They seem to be paying the fixer no mind, ordering a burger meal apiece and settling back to engage in laughing conversation. A few minutes more and Charlie picks up the arrival of two more vehicles through his drone observance. One is a large rig, six wheels, likely a biofuel n-energy cell mix monstrosity of mottled tan color with an open short bed covered by canvas. The other is a hover jeep being driven by two individuals, one at the wheel and the other riding shotgun, literally with a shotgun in hand.

Once the vehicles find parking, the driver and the gunner in the jeep make their way inside. There’s no hesitation, no need for a sign; Luther and the two bikers are the only ones in McDee’s dining area and the small population of travelers in the station’s lobby are obviously of no interest to the nomads.

“I’m Fluke,” the driver states, sliding into the booth on the bench seat opposite the well-dressed fixer. “You Cred Stick Charlie?”

His companion, a short woman with wild red hair and dirty, but somewhat pretty face covered in freckles seats herself next to him, her shotgun now in a sling on her back. She calmly chews, open-mouthed, on a piece of gum, eyeing Luther as though she can see right through to his soul.

(OOC: March 9th, Day 3 - Sunday, Time is 2:10 AM PST)

  After cutting his way through the fencing and making his way to the next floor, Ghlahn found himself next to a 2034 American Motors Nighthawk Coupe in the corner spot.  It looked like a good place to watch and wait.  He stuffed his bag under the car and wiggled in next to it.  He was careful to leave room for the barrel of his rifle to remain under the car as well.  From his position he could use the scope to keep an eye on the crowd below.   

Meeting with Fluke

Contris: Open

Tag: Brom Sal

Goals:

Finnish the meeting with Fluke and then recover the drone and get to the school

Pending:

Use “Darkweb” and three vendors to make a deal for blanks (Shoes) / Pricing please per 10 to 100 count

Find a seat and wait while studying: Chinese Language if possible

Look into his option of identity printer

Study Chinese culture: looking for anything that might help with TONG negotiations, a ritual, proverbs…. Anything that would help this foreigner keep his deal without ruffling feathers.

Have Hui make calls for Mr. Charlie (in the morning) to:

xxx, for some “shoes ( Passports) so that Charlie can make a stop

Fixer one to assist with picking up a vehicle or pick up “shoes” for delivery

Fixer two to assist with picking up a vehicle or pick up “shoes” for delivery

Rocker to sign for a “Gig” for the battle of the bands at a venue (Good roll from prior r20 log)

Reply back to Hui about his time table

Still waiting on bulk pricing “shoe” vending

use dark web Library Search: 17

three vendors: Blank prices in bulk (10-100) "Shoes"

To Streetdeal: 19

To Streetdeal:  Rolling 1d10+11 + 0 = (6)+11+0">17

To Streetdeal:  Rolling 1d10+11 + 0 = (6)+11+0">17

-----------------------------

“I’m Fluke,” the driver states, sliding into the booth on the bench seat opposite the well-dressed fixer. “You Cred Stick Charlie?”.

Charlie nods yes.

His companion, a short woman with wild red hair and dirty, but somewhat pretty face covered in freckles seats herself next to him, her shotgun now in a sling on her back. She calmly chews, open-mouthed, on a piece of gum, eyeing Luther as though she can see right through to his soul.

“Is that the airraft?” He  questions motioning his a head movement to the lot. “ Did you want to sign docs now so we can both be on our way?” Charlie sips his coffee.

"Docs?"  Fluke chuckles and peers about the room distractedly as his companion pops her gum. "Dude, you ain't working with a neocorp here. You borrow the jeep and if you **** us, we skin you and use yer hide as a tent. Now, here are the keys--ya, keys. Old school, but effective."

Dangling the keys over the table, Fluke looks lazily across the table and presents a crooked grin.

As the second pane of glass was removed and the motion sensor stayed in place Fixer felt some professional pride.  Yes, as a matter of fact, he did know something about this business.  They were in!  

But that same professionalism led him to hold up his hand to stop everyone from rushing through the new formed opening.  He knew the alarms he could see with the window in place, but it was always important to exercise caution and look for the second and third level of secutiry.  Soemtimes there was more . . . and crap!  Yes, there was another motion sensor in the hall.  A window sensor, a noise detector and now a motion sensor.  This place was more serious about security then he would have expected.  But there should be a code box somewhere . . . . but he couldn't see it.  He studied the area as well as he could.  

Eventually he decided it wasn't visable and began to consider options.  He didn't have any great ones.  So he looked back at the rest of the group and considered options again.  Coming to a conclusion he stood up carefully.  He held his finger to his lips to indicate silence and pointed at the noise alarm that was no longer on the other side of solid glass. They needed to be quiet.  He pointed at blossom and indicated that he wanted her to move with him well out of the range of the alarm systems noise detection.  When they had reached a spot of presumed safety he whispered quietly to her.  "In addition to the motion detector on the window and the noise detection on the opposite wall there is a motion detector further down the hall. Somewhere there has to be a code box to put in a security code to disarm the system.  If I could reach the box I could probably get the code.  But I can't see a box.  Whcih means it will be extrememly hard to NOT trip that damn alarm."  He looked at the woman who had spent her time surfing the buildings communications system.  "But we do now have access to the electronics of the alarm system.  If we open up those wires and get you in, is there a chance that you can prevent the alarm from being sent out of the building?   To be clear, I'm pretty sure we will trip the motion detector.  We need to stop that alarm from getting beyond this floor?"

Fixer looked at her as she thought about it.  "What do you need me to do?  I'll help as I can."

Outside the Upstairs Downstairs Inc. Building - 8th Floor Fire Escape Window | Night City Integrate | Midcity | UrbanZone - March 9th, Day 3 (Sunday), 3:03 AM PST

Weather Conditions: High City (Thunderstorms, 15mph winds from the NE.) | Midcity (Rain, 10mph winds from the NE.) | Undercity (Fog and Rain, no winds.)

Air Quality Index: High City = 25 | Midcity = 42 | Undercity = 75 (masks required)

The group seems to have already handled the actual breaking part of breaking and entering when Casino and the medtech arrive at the 8th-floor fire escape platform; indeed, they are already in the process of doing the entering. Without a word, Bloodbank nods to those still outside, and quietly waits his turn to enter. From what he can see past his companions, the dimly lit hallway is blessedly dry and—more importantly—it looks deserted. Silently, Bloodbank thanks his lucky stars but with a clearer view available into the hallway he notices something he hadn't seen before: some small white boxes with opaque glass noses that cover a full 180 degrees semicircle from the base of the box located at the joint of the ceiling and wall about halfway down the first stretch of the hall.

Bloodbank has no idea what those are, but he knows that he doesn’t like the ideas that come to mind. Holding his fist up to warn Casino behind him, he gently taps the person in front of him and points to the boxes, his unseen eyebrows wise behind his rain-slicked battle mask.

Fixer, too, has noticed the box on the wall and has stopped Vegas and Echo before they could enter. Pondering his options, he decides that he doesn't have any great ones, so he looks back at the rest of the group and reconsiders. Coming to a conclusion he stands up carefully and quietly. He holds his finger to his lips to indicate silence and points at the noise alarm that is no longer on the other side of solid glass. They need to be quiet. He points at Blossom and indicates that he wants her to move with him well out of the range of the alarm system’s noise detection. White lollipop stick frozen in her mouth, the beautiful netrunner rises from her crouching position and follows. She’s not the only one. The others move down the flight of stairs with the techie so as to be apprised of the plan when it comes together.

When they reach a spot of presumed safety, he whispers quietly to the Asian girl, "In addition to the motion detector on the window and the noise detection on the opposite wall there is a motion detector further down the hall. Somewhere, there has to be a code box to put in a security code to disarm the system. If I could reach the box, I could probably get the code. But I can't see a box. Which means it will be extremely hard to NOT trip that damn alarm." He looks at the woman who has spent her time surfing the buildings communications system. "But we do now have access to the electronics of the alarm system. If we open up those wires and get you in, is there a chance that you can prevent the alarm from being sent out of the building? To be clear, I'm pretty sure we will trip the motion detector. We need to stop that alarm from getting beyond this floor?"

Fixer looks at her as she thinks about it, "What do you need me to do? I'll help as I can."

“The sensor doesn’t have any wires running from it which means that it’s running on WiFi,” Blossom removes the sucker from her mouth and points its purple ball at the techie. “Can you get that sensor box open without setting off the alarm? If you can, I can probably hitch a ride on its signal and see what blocks I can put in place. Once I’m surfing that wave, I should be able to locate the central alarm system and given enough time, bypass the system’s firewall… maybe even turn the whole thing off.”

“So,” Vegas inserts with a tense whisper. “The success of this whole plan is contingent on a bunch of maybes?”

Turning her heart-shaped sunglasses towards the crooner, Blossom smiles seductively, “Adds a little spice to the evening, don’t it, gato?”

Shaking his head in disbelief, Vegas glances at Casino, receiving his unspoken response, and then shrugs and steps aside, motioning back up the stairs. “The band’s playing your song, sweetheart.”

“You good with this?” Blossom asks Fixer directly.

(OOC: Fixer’s answer… going to assume it is affirmative.)

“It is what it is,” she replies with that same smile. Placing the sucker back in her mouth, she sweeps her hand towards the stairs in a similar manner to Vegas’. “And we are what we are. Let’s go work some magic.”

The team approaches their previous destination with caution, unsure of whether the situation has changed. Echo leads, in her hands she holds her cherished H&K MP2020 heavy submachine gun up to her shoulder. Her approach to the newly opened window is ghostly, quiet, as though she is hovering above the grating. Barely turning the corner with her head, she observes the still empty hall and motions the others forward with her left hand over her right shoulder before gripping the underside of the submachine gun’s barrel once again.

Mathis approaches the window with just as much care but trusting in the nomad woman and focusing his attention on the small sensor box. Even as he kneels at the base of the sill, the microtool rolls out from within the cybernetic bracer on his right forearm and extends into his waiting hand. Fixer finds the plastic covers for the screws holding the sensor box on the sill in place and uses the microtool’s flathead mini screwdriver to very carefully pry them open. A mental command replaces the screwdriver in the tool body and a wire cutter takes its place.

As the techie works his magic, Blossom accesses the side pocket of her bivvy bag and fishes out a tangle of link cables. Sorting them, she slides one over Fixer’s left shoulder just as he gently strips the casing from a blue-colored wire revealing the silvery copper threads.

Expertly extracting the wire cutter from the sensor box, James “Fixer” Mathis takes the offered link cable in his left hand and cuts the connection jack from the approximately two inches up the length. Stripping the remaining link casing back another half an inch, he holds his right hand over the exposed wire and watches the technical readout display in his optics slice showing him which bundle services which purpose for the interface cord. Selecting the correct piece, he pulls it apart from its fellows and then proceeds to deftly bind it to the exposed sensor wire. Settling back on his heels, Fixer assesses his work before relinquishing his position to the netrunner.

Settling in, Blossom pulls her long leather trench coat out behind her and rests just as Fixer had done, butt to heel. Interface cables are old school—she grins around her lolli stick as she thinks back to her first experience with them. Plugging the intact end into her wrist port, she mentally calls up the protocols necessary to bring her into the digital realm.

Gravity takes a spin and immediately the world around her turns from the wet fire escape to a barely perceptible landscape of sullen gray slopes over which a single trail of flowing light hovers at about waist level to her anime character avatar.

With a light-hearted giggle and an overly dramatic spin, Blossom darts after the flow, the sprite’s long, blue hair flowing behind her much like two rivers cascading out either side of her cartoonish head. Rolling featureless hills pass underneath in rapid succession until she witnesses the massive wall of coded flowing upward from the ground, the data stream she’s been following abruptly striking it and apparently either becoming part of it or passing straight through. The wardriver knows that this is not something she’ll just be able to move through or over; she’s reached the system’s firewall.

“They’ve certainly wasted no money on this system’s VR,” her friendly high-pitched observation echoes endlessly behind her. “Barbarians.”

Taking the bull by the horns, Blossom immediately activates her Wizard’s Book resulting in her avatar calling out in Japanese, striking a dramatic spread-legged pose with her undersized arms outstretched before her and schoolgirl mini-skirt billowing about while brilliant white light flows from her splayed fingertips and strikes the data wall with force.

From the center of where the light strikes, the wall begins to peel backward. Within a few blinks of the eye, there’s a sizeable hole showing more of the same landscape beyond. Blossom floats her avatar straight through with another light-hearted giggle.

In the distance, the netrunner spots a small structure made of pulsing blue planes set in a multitude of various angles resulting in a glowing prism-like obelisk. From its point flow streams of waving bluish-white tendrils that extend into the ether.

Another giggle and the avatar is speeding across the space that separates them, drawing up with a slide any baseball player would be proud of. This is where things are going to get interesting, Akira remarks. Gotta do a little hacking on the Liche…

Mental commands draw up a console screen hovering in front of Blossom’s schoolgirl sprite and the tiny fingers begin to play in the air in front of it mimicking the work of typing on a keyboard. The data file before her reveals the code for her Liche program of which, she first creates a copy. Then, working in the copy file, the programmer begins the process of adjusting line commands, functions, and models. Where the original program is designed to mindwipe a target and install within a simple pseudo personality, Akira “Blossom” Oshiro’s adjustments make the program capable of sending false data packets mimicking a clean report until recalled. Seeing how she’s going to be disconnecting from the system, whoever it is that performs the security analysis will find her modified Liche basking in its purpose, but there’s nothing for it now. At least they’ll find her signature and her notoriety might receive a little boost because of it.

Swiping away the console, the avatar calls up the modified Liche. In front of her, a tattered black-robed figure materializes seemingly from nothing but the air. Within the flowing remnants of the robe is a blackened, charred skeleton with glowing, fiery pink eyes and a pink rose colored crown upon its head.

“Liche, I call you!” the avatar giggles. “Now go and do my bidding!”

Without any further prodding, the digital construct spins about and very gracefully flies up to the streaming tendrils. Stretching out its hands to either side, the program immerses itself in the base of the flow, glowing brightly as it absorbs the data and changing the color of the flow above it to pink.

Pleased with the results, Blossom jacks out, returning to the real world where seconds have passed while the others waited.

“It’s done,” she quips, rising to her full five foot five inches and unplugging the spliced cable from her wrist. “We’re solid. I’m ghosting the system at the source so we don’t need to worry about sound or motion. Now, let’s get to the human resource computer.”

“Great work, sugarplum,” Vegas smiles with approval but doesn’t raise his voice to the decibel that the netrunner just used. Still speaking quietly, he gives a nod to Echo and says, “Let’s still try to keep quiet. Don’t know what onsite security they have here.”

(OOC: March 9th, Day 3 - Sunday, Time is 03:08 AM PST)

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Near the Parking Garage two blocks from the Upstairs Downstairs Inc. Building | Night City Integrate | Midcity | UrbanZone - March 9th, Day 3 (Sunday), 02:32 AM PST

Weather Conditions: High City (Thunderstorms, 15mph winds from the NE.) | Midcity (Rain, 10mph winds from the NE.) | Undercity (Fog and Rain, no winds.)

Air Quality Index: High City = 25 | Midcity = 42 | Undercity = 75 (masks required)

He can feel the press of the vehicle’s undercarriage against his shoulder blades. Pressure that’s not uncomfortable, just present. Of course, if he wants to, the Cee-Metal edger could turn down the pain receptacles in that portion of his bodyshell but it isn’t necessary.

Peering through the scope, Ghlahn watches the developing mess below while occasionally scanning upward and across the street, to the building his companions are supposed to be breaching just to make sure they don’t need any help.

A small gathering has grown to a pretty good-sized mob consisting of approximately fifty people (a number that fluctuates as more either join or removes themselves). The leader is still charismatically urging them on and the congregation has migrated further down the street to a point where they are within meters of the apartment complex’s entry. Here, the leader continues to rile them up, fanning the flame of social unrest with words of hate that Alex can easily pick out with his enhanced hearing but doesn’t care to catalog. Racial hate isn’t new to the cyborg as his people experience their own prejudices, both against others and being shown against them. Choosing the Flesh Bodyshell meant that Alex McKennon, aka, M'harú Ghlahn, can blend in with humanity and avoid a greater amount of these prejudices. Were he showcasing an entirely chromed exterior there would be no doubt that he never would have made it through that crowd without eliciting violence.

For minutes, the sniper watches the mob leader engage in his spiteful rhetoric against the Muslims within the apartment building behind him, and then, just when it seems that the man is going to lead the charge, a rumbling a ten ton BTR-15 APC comes rumbling around the corner at the intersection down scope from him. Two spotlights on the front switch on and pan the crowd with sweeping lines that illuminate the drifting rain as little motes of white fire.

== This is Marcom Security. You have ten seconds to begin dispersing before we take extreme action. Starting now. ==

The vehicle’s speaker system isn’t loud. Perhaps it was designed to barely meet legal requirements but still allow the security company personnel some fun whenever the people they were addressing were too loud to hear the message. In this case, calls of angry protest rise up from the crowd, fists are shaken towards the interloping vehicle, but the mob knows when it has been beat, and panning over their numbers with his scope, Ghlahn cannot find the skinhead who was leading them. He’s been lost to the crowd or abandoned them altogether.

== Ten… nine… eight… ==

Humanity peels apart with people going their separate ways in a hurry to not get caught up in the consequences of disobedience. The 30mm turret cannon being the largest of their concerns. All the while, the vehicle continues to roll towards them on its six oversized tires and the other vehicles in the street are forced to move aside.

(OOC: March 9th, Day 3 - Sunday, Time is 02:50 AM PST)

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the Long Mile Fueling Station | SanFran Integrate | Midcity | UrbanZone - March 9th, Day 3 (Sunday), 2:10 AM PST --- Weather Conditions: High City (heavy rain, 20mph winds from the N.) | Midcity (light rain, 10mph winds from the N.) | Undercity (fog and drizzle, no winds.)

Air Quality Index: High City = 15 | Midcity = 36 | Undercity = 86 (masks required - Red warning)

“I’m Fluke,” the driver states, sliding into the booth on the bench seat opposite the well-dressed fixer. “You Cred Stick Charlie?”

His companion, a short woman with wild red hair and dirty, but somewhat pretty face covered in freckles seats herself next to him, her shotgun now in a sling on her back. She calmly chews, open-mouthed, on a piece of gum, eyeing Luther as though she can see right through to his soul.

Charlie nods yes.

His companion, a short woman with wild red hair and dirty, but somewhat pretty face covered in freckles seats herself next to him, her shotgun now in a sling on her back. She calmly chews, open-mouthed, on a piece of gum, eyeing Luther as though she can see right through to his soul.

“Is that the air raft?” He questions motioning his a head movement to the lot. “ Did you want to sign docs now so we can both be on our way?” Charlie sips his coffee.

"Docs?"  Fluke chuckles and peers about the room distractedly as his companion pops her gum. "Dude, you ain't working with a neocorp here. You borrow the jeep and if you **** us, we skin you and use yer hide as a tent. Now, here are the keys--ya, keys. Old school, but effective."

Dangling the keys over the table, Fluke looks lazily across the table and presents a crooked grin.

(OOC: March 9th, Day 3 - Sunday, Time is 2:14 AM PST)

“Is that the air raft?” He questions motioning his a head movement to the lot. “ Did you want to sign docs now so we can both be on our way?” Charlie sips his coffee.

"Docs?"  Fluke chuckles and peers about the room distractedly as his companion pops her gum. "Dude, you ain't working with a neocorp here. You borrow the jeep and if you **** us, we skin you and use yer hide as a tent. Now, here are the keys--ya, keys. Old school, but effective."

Dangling the keys over the table, Fluke looks lazily across the table and presents a crooked grin.

Charile will take the keys and attempt to leave, exit the building and walk over to inspect the air raft vehicle. 

<tech roll?>

Fixer looked at Blossom and congratuled her.  "Nice work.  I'm glad your on the team.  If there is a time limit here or some other risk, let us know."  He looked up at the big Crooner and added, "and like the singer here said, keep your eye out for on-site security.  Lets go in and move quickly but quietly.Remember we still have another team on our heels and a kid who could be about to die somewhere."

Fixer carefully moved into the hallway beyond the broken window and security stuff.  He was careful to enter as far from the detectors as he could.  He'd let the muscle go first since that was their job, but he was still very vigilant about other potential security issues.  He moved in along the right hand wall using the jog in the hallway to give him some concealment and approached the first door.  Time to listen careully and see what could be heard, although that phrase sounded really odd.  

     Ghalan watched as the security teams rolled up on the crowd.  The arrival of several tons of steel usually dispersed people pretty quickly.  he warning announcement was at such a low level hat he wondered if some of the crowd even heard it.  His own hearing allowed him to hear it easily.  Figuring it was time to update the others he reached for his radio.  It was not there.  "That stupid Bloodbank" he muttered.  The medic had taken the radio and left Ghalan alone with no means of communication.  Taking a moment to think he calculated that it shoudl take the group at least 45 minutes to make their way into the building and find what they were looking for.  He had time.  For the moment he would simply stay put and keep watch.  If he was lucky he would see the others leaving the building.  If not he would wait one hour and then make his way back to their last meeting place.  

"...To be clear, I'm pretty sure we will trip the motion detector. We need to stop that alarm from getting beyond this floor? What do you need me to do? I'll help as I can."

Bloodbank released the pent up breath he hadn't been realizing he was holding. If he properly understood what Fixer was saying, then they were truly in for a struggle. If he was 100% honest with himself, he had very little idea of what could be done to remedy the situation they were in; and even less of an idea of the difficulty in any remedies suggested. Frack, but the MedTech hated feeling useless, and more often then not when it came to technology, he really was. 

Wiping his sour frown off his concealed face, Bloodbank kept quiet and idly twisted his left middle finger while listening to Blossom's reply. 

“The sensor doesn’t have any wires running from it which means that it’s running on WiFi,” Blossom removed the sucker from her mouth and pointed its purple ball at the techie. “Can you get that sensor box open without setting off the alarm? If you can, I can probably hitch a ride on its signal and see what blocks I can put in place. Once I’m surfing that wave, I should be able to locate the central alarm system and given enough time, bypass the system’s firewall… maybe even turn the whole thing off.”

“So,” Vegas inserted with a tense whisper. “The success of this whole plan is contingent on a bunch of maybes?”

"Maybe's are better then nothing," Bloodbank murmured to no one in particular, shrugging slightly. "Besides, they've got this in the bag, I'm sure!" Bloodbank half smiled, glancing between Fixer and Blossom. He was sure, was the thing. Well, he was mostly sure. He really didn't have any idea how difficult the task they were proposing was. Sometimes he wished everything was as simple doctoring a sucking chest wound in the heat of battle. 

Turning her heart-shaped sunglasses towards the crooner, Blossom smiles seductively, “Adds a little spice to the evening, don’t it, gato?”

Shaking his head in disbelief, Vegas glances at Casino, receiving his unspoken response, and then shrugs and steps aside, motioning back up the stairs. “The band’s playing your song, sweetheart.”

“You good with this?” Blossom asks Fixer directly.

(OOC: Fixer’s answer… going to assume it is affirmative.)

“It is what it is,” she replies with that same smile. Placing the sucker back in her mouth, she sweeps her hand towards the stairs in a similar manner to Vegas’. “And we are what we are. Let’s go work some magic.”

With no further adieu, the group moved its way back up the fire escape, returning to the almost ominous silence accented by the sounds of the city around them. Bloodbank took a position in the back of the group and turned his attention away from the work being done to look out into the alley they were in. He gripped the railing, leaning slightly on it as he peered towards the entrance to the alley, watching for anyone who might interrupt. The MedTech was very careful to not look straight down over the railing, however; it really seemed too thin of a barrier when he did that. The metal bar almost felt like it would break away sending him sprawling down 8 floors to the cold, hard alley floor.

Shaking that thought from his head, Bloodbank settled to watching the alley and directed his mind to the task at hand. What to do when they got into the building. They would need to find HR to find a personnel record or something of the sort. 

"How long would that take?" He wondered silently. Hopefully not too long, he didn't want to be in the building any longer then possible. That was just asking for trouble, he felt. Maybe they didn't actually need to find HR. Surely the personnel files would be electronic -- Who used paper these days!? -- so if Blossom could just get onto a server or something? That seemed like it could be easy if she could just waltz right into a security system. To get into the server, wouldn't she just need a computer or something? It had to be easier to just find a computer then try and find a specific location within the office building that none of them had been to before? He'd have to ask Blossom. Maybe it would save some time. 

“It’s done,” Blossom piped, breaking into Bloodbanks musings. “We’re solid. I’m ghosting the system at the source so we don’t need to worry about sound or motion. Now, let’s get to the human resource computer.”

“Great work, sugarplum,” Vegas smiled with approval but didn't raise his voice to the decibel that the netrunner just used. Still speaking quietly, he gave a nod to Echo and said, “Let’s still try to keep quiet. Don’t know what onsite security they have here.”

 "Blossom," Bloodbank broke in, his voice just barely above a whisper. "Do you need the HR computer specifically?" -- He cleared his throat, self conscious of just how little he knew in this particular area. -- " Wouldn't any computer get you... uhmm, in?"  

Jesus, need someone to dig a bullet out of you and stitch you up right as rain and Bloodbank was your man, but if you needed more then just a basic file search on your computer... Well, you may as well ask a chimp for all the good he was. 

(OOC: Blossom's response, I'm assuming she needs the HR computer otherwise she would have said different)

Bloodbank nodded, and followed the more combat inclined of the group into the building, trying his best to be quiet. 

charlie looks the vehicle over for a bit , then gets into the vehicle, starts it up. Charile then will attempt to plot a GPS course to the group. 

Outside the Upstairs Downstairs Inc. Building Ladder Platform | Night City Integrate | Midcity | UrbanZone - March 9th, Day 3 (Sunday), 1:38 AM PST Weather Conditions: High City (Thunderstorms, 15mph winds from the NE.) | Midcity (Rain, 10mph winds from the NE.) | Undercity (Fog and Rain, no winds.) Air Quality Index: High City = 25 | Midcity = 42 | Undercity = 75 (masks required)

Waiting quietly Casino made sure to remain alert, his eyes always moving. As the last one into the building he was also the closet to the window and kept watch on what could easily be the entry groups only way out.

Standing and watching the rest apply skills Casino could only read about in a book he kept guard. His best skill was watching and cancaling threats. He was a bruiser, muscle, a hired gun, his only real skill killing people as he had shown in the hospital. Out numbered the big solo had still come out on top with no new injuries his tech and skill saving his life once more. His only real frends a resturaunt owner and Vegas no one else did he trust or consider such, yet here he was starting to fall for some goddamn kid. A quick glance at her showed her almost teenager looks though the H&K MP2020 heavy submachine gun she held kinda told a different story.

His attention was slowly drawn to the sounds of the building riot outside gaining intensity and his enhanced hearing picked up the sounds of arriving police and a voice addressing the crowd through a microphone.

*(( I assume I get this cyber hearing through my Ranged Combat Edgerunner Package))

== This is Marcom Security. You have ten seconds to begin dispersing before we take extreme action. Starting now. Ten… nine… eight… ==

“We need to hurry it up the police have arrived out front to disperse the crowd”

“It’s done,” she quips, rising to her full five foot five inches and unplugging the spliced cable from her wrist. “We’re solid. I’m ghosting the system at the source so we don’t need to worry about sound or motion. Now, let’s get to the human resource computer.”

“Great work, sugarplum,” Vegas smiles with approval but doesn’t raise his voice to the decibel that the netrunner just used. Still speaking quietly, he gives a nod to Echo and says, “Let’s still try to keep quiet. Don’t know what onsite security they have here.”

A nod to Vegas to let him know he was ready Casino took his spot as the last man and covered the group’s six……….

The Upstairs Downstairs Inc. Building - 8th Floor | Night City Integrate | Midcity | UrbanZone - March 9th, Day 3 (Sunday), 3:08 AM PST

Weather Conditions: High City (Thunderstorms, 15mph winds from the NE.) | Midcity (Rain, 10mph winds from the NE.) | Undercity (Fog and Rain, no winds.)

Air Quality Index: High City = 25 | Midcity = 42 | Undercity = 75 (masks required)

“It’s done,” Blossom quips, rising to her full five foot five inches and unplugging the spliced cable from her wrist. “We’re solid. I’m ghosting the system at the source so we don’t need to worry about sound or motion. Now, let’s get to the human resource computer.”

“Great work, sugarplum,” Vegas smiles with approval but doesn’t raise his voice to the decibel that the netrunner just used. Still speaking quietly, he gives a nod to Echo and says, “Let’s still try to keep quiet. Don’t know what onsite security they have here.”

"Blossom," Bloodbank breaks in, his voice just barely above a whisper. "Do you need the HR computer specifically?" He clears his throat, self conscious of just how little he knows in this particular area. "Wouldn't any computer get you... uhmm, in?"

“It depends on whether they have the HR database locked within its own datafortress,” the little Asian woman replies, dropping her voice to a whisper. “We can always attempt the first computer we come across.”

Bloodbank nods and preps himself to follow the others inside.

Fixer looks at Blossom and congratulates her, "Nice work. I'm glad your on the team. If there is a time limit here or some other risk, let us know." He looks up at the big Crooner and adds, "and like the singer here said, keep your eye out for on-site security. Let’s go in and move quickly but quietly. Remember we still have another team on our heels and a kid who could be about to die somewhere."

“Let’s go,” Vegas clambors over the sill while awkwardly lifting his overcoat and bag high so as not to disturb the remnants of the alarm system just in case. Echo is quick to follow, lifting her coat and hoisting her bag over with the same level of care. Blossom and Bloodbank are next over and in followed by Fixer, who carefully moves into the hallway beyond the broken window and security elements. He is careful to enter as far from the detectors as he can.

Once inside, Vegas and Echo lead the team down the hall to the first door. One with a handgun at ready, the other with her strange submachine gun. The others trail behind with Casino bringing up the rear, watching the window for any sign from across the alley that they have been compromised.

Descending on the alcove of the first door on the right, Vegas crosses in front of the door quickly, having to jog across the hall to do so, and takes up a position on the far side of the space. Echo quickly makes her way into a flanking position on the other side of the door and peers around the corner while the others move.

Squinting against the glare of the hallway lighting on the glass of panel windows of the door set within the recessed area, Echo frowns behind the cloth of her balaclava. Can’t see a damn thing, she grumps. Frellin’ light is reflecting off the door in all the wrong places. Turning to catch Vegas’ eye, she shakes her head and whispers, “Can’t see.”

The Frank Sinatra look-alike grimly accepts the information and glances around the corner himself, foregoing his scan of the hall that has opened up further into the building for a moment. All he can make out is a space just beyond the door and what appears to be a cubicle wall. His gaze drifts to the card scanner by the door and he motions Fixer forward.

The techie moves in along the right hand wall using the jog in the hallway to give him some concealment and approaches the first door. Listening carefully and peering through the glass panel, Fixer pauses to catch what could be heard, seeing what the solo had already seen; cubicle walls.

Casino stops a little further back, almost parallel to the medtech who stands across the hall from him, and stands sentry. Blossom hangs out near the masked medic as well, casually leaning against the wall and rolling her sucker about in her mouth.

Giving up on his cautious approach having heard nothing alarming and having seen nothing to warn him away, Fixer turns his attention to the security at the door.

The card scanner is a standard IR reader. A user would hold their card up to the flat panel and the device would read the imprinted code on the company issued card. If the code matches the records, the door is unlocked, if it doesn’t, the door isn’t unlocked. The only way that the alarm might be triggered is if the door is opened without the sensor being properly triggered. The techie can’t see any other sign of additional security.

(OOC: March 9th, Day 3 - Sunday, Time is 03:10 AM PST)

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Near the Parking Garage two blocks from the Upstairs Downstairs Inc. Building | Night City Integrate | Midcity | UrbanZone - March 9th, Day 3 (Sunday), 02:50 AM PST

Weather Conditions: High City (Thunderstorms, 15mph winds from the NE.) | Midcity (Rain, 10mph winds from the NE.) | Undercity (Fog and Rain, no winds.)

Air Quality Index: High City = 25 | Midcity = 42 | Undercity = 75 (masks required)

Ghlahn watches as the security teams roll up on the crowd. The arrival of several tons of steel usually disperses people pretty quickly. The warning announcement is at such a low level that he wonders if some of the crowd even hears it. His own hearing allows him to hear it easily. Figuring it is time to update the others he reaches for his radio. It is not there.

"That stupid Bloodbank" he mutters. The medic has taken the radio and left Ghlahn alone with no means of communication. Taking a moment to think, he calculates that it should take the group at least 45 minutes to make their way into the building and find what they are looking for. He has time. For the moment, he will simply stay put and keep watch. If he is lucky, he will see the others leaving the building. If not, he will wait one hour and then make his way back to their last meeting place.

Returning to his scope, the Cee-metal edgerunner watches the remnants of the crowd moving with haste to be about some other business, not wishing to be added to the Body Count numbers shared by all of the various mainstream news outlets. Rumbling forward, the APC rolls right up to the garage and out of sight behind the cement flooring. Ghlahn can still hear the engine, but he can no longer see it. Traffic along the street returns to normal with ground cars pulling back onto the road and people continue to amble along.

A few minutes pass and then a team of three heavily armed and armored corporate soldiers jog back into view and make their way to the building the skinhead had been leading the crowd into. Arriving at the door, they let themselves in.

For the next few minutes, Ghlahn calmly watches the street. The engine of the BTR-15 APC turns off and the sounds of the street permeate the air. Then, from behind him, lights play over the ground, pass under the vehicle he’s beneath, play across his left shoulder and bicep, and then move on. Someone is using a flashlight and scanning the garage. With his enhanced hearing, M'harú Ghlahn can hear booted soles on the cement… three, maybe four people.

(OOC: March 9th, Day 3 - Sunday, Time is 03:03 AM PST)

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the Long Mile Fueling Station | SanFran Integrate | Midcity | UrbanZone - March 9th, Day 3 (Sunday), 2:14 AM PST --- Weather Conditions: High City (heavy rain, 20mph winds from the N.) | Midcity (light rain, 10mph winds from the N.) | Undercity (fog and drizzle, no winds.)

Air Quality Index: High City = 15 | Midcity = 36 | Undercity = 86 (masks required - Red warning)

Dangling the keys over the table, Fluke looks lazily at the fixer and presents a crooked grin. Charlie calmly takes the keys and stands, shifting to the side to leave the table.

“What?” Fluke leans back in his chair and possessively drapes his right arm around his companion’s shoulders. “No kiss good-bye? Not even a ******* thank you? What is this world comin’ to?”

The woman sneers and open-mouth chews her gum while eyeballing the well-dressed Native American.

Charlie exits the building at a casual pace and on his way over to the jeep, collects his drone. The chassis of the vehicle bears its scars with rusted edges, dents, and more than a few bullet holes. It’s definitely seen better days. As much as the manufacturer touted the smooth ride, Luther can see that the seats are worn, torn, and patched and to make up for the lack of covering in some areas, old Army surplus wool blankets are draped across them. Aside from the cosmetic blemishes, he did witness them roll into the parking lot with it running and Charlie’s team isn’t looking to win any Best in Show awards.

After some time looking the jeep over, he gets into the vehicle and starts it up. Sputtering and growling, the machine comes alive. Whirring fans kick in beneath him and he’s lifted a couple of feet from the cracked and stained pavement below.

Mentally accessing his agent, Charlie plots a GPS course back to the group by way of the Upstairs Downstairs Inc. office. If they aren’t there in a couple of hours, he’ll track them down using the agent number Vegas had shared with him.

A map of his route visually displayed with medium opacity in his optic splice, Luther takes the wheel in hand and applies his foot to the accelerator. With traffic in its current state, he’s looking at roughly a two and a half hour drive, two if he’s able to speed through traffic without delay. Carpool lanes and hitting exchanges at just the right time can play into timing a lot, and then there’s the issue with local gang activity and nomads. He hadn’t seen any nomadic markings on the rig he’s now driving, so he’s hoping he doesn’t run into any conflicts.

Now’s also a good time to put some work in. Though the air jeep isn’t outfitted with self-driving capabilities, Cred Stick Charlie can make calls and do some audible learning from his Chinese textbooks to prep for Monday’s challenges. He might even be able to connect with some of those “Vendors” on the Dark Web concerning blank shoes. Researching the identity printer further would require more attention than he can safely devote while driving, but these other things, he might be able to work out.

(OOC: March 9th, Day 3 - Sunday, Time is 2:30 AM PST)

Charile  will make some time to learning from his Chinese textbooks to prep for Monday’s challenges and he will inquire in more detail about blank shoes in bulk as well as he begins his two plus hour ride.